As he spoke he lurched against the yeoman next to him and allowed the bundle he carried to slip from his arm. The soldier cursed him for a clumsy drunkard. Hope, in return, abused the soldier for knocking the parcel out of his arms, and then called to Neal-- “Wait for me, mate, wait till I gather up my goods again.” He deposited his cartridge cases on the ground, went after the bundle which had rolled into the gutter, and then, arranging his load slowly, allowed the yeomen to march past. “Did you hear Major Barber say that he’d be ready to bet that these cases held cartridges? A sharp man, Major Barber! But there are more men than him about with eyes in their heads. The next officer we meet will be wanting to know where we are taking the cartridges. We won’t have another company of yeomen to vouch for our characters. I think, Neal, we’d better get something to cover these up. There’s a man here in charge of a carman’s yard who is sure to have a couple of sacks which will suit us very well.” He passed under an archway, followed by Neal, and entered a small yard. “Charlie,” he cried, “are you there, Charlie?” A young man emerged from one of the stables. He started at the sight of Hope. “Are you mad, Jemmy Hope?” he said. “Are you mad, that you come here, and every stable full of dragoons’ horses? They have them billeted on us, curse them, and the villains are in the coachhouse polishing their bits and stirrup irons. Hark to them.” “I hear them,” said Hope. “Get me two of your oat sacks, Charlie, good strong ones. I have goods here that want protecting from the sunlight.” The man cast a swift glance round, ran to one of the stables, and fetched the sacks. “Now, Neal, pack up, pack up.” He pushed his own cases into one of the sacks. Neal followed his example. “It won’t do,” said Hope, “the sacks don’t look natural. There are too many sharp corners bulging out. Charlie, lad, fetch us some straw--a good armful.” While they were stuffing the sacks with the straw one of the dragoons swaggered across the yard. He stood watching Hope and Neal for a minute or two, and then said. “What have you there that you’re so mighty careful of?” “Whisht, man, whisht,” said Hope, “it’s not safe to be talking of what’s here.” He winked at the soldier as he spoke--a sly, humorous wink--a wink which hinted at a good joke to come. The dragoon, a fat, good-natured man’, grinned in reply. “I won’t split on you, you young thieves. I’ve taken my share of loot before this, and I expect some pickings out of the croppies’ houses before I’ve done. I won’t cry halvers on you. What’s yours is yours. But tell us what it is.” “It’s cases of cartridges,” said Hope, winking again. “We’re taking them to the general in command of the rebel army, so don’t be interfering with us or maybe they’ll hold a courtmartial on you.”